


coins and trinkets

by mellowly



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drabble, Drinking & Talking, Elves are really weird, Gen, Minas Tirith, Post-War of the Ring, Romantic Friendship, elves are weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 16:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowly/pseuds/mellowly
Summary: elves have no set currency.this is, to a dwarf, extremely odd.(or: how not to pay for your ale.)





	coins and trinkets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceOfShadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfShadows/gifts).



> a plot bunny come up with by myself and AceofShadows about elves having no coin system, only bartering. it stuck. elves are strange. it's not always simple. and some sentimentality and insightfulness on gimli's part for good measure.

**may 23rd, TA 3019, minas tirith**

* * *

 

So, it turns out - and this is after near a year together, walking the wilds, how on Earth did he _miss_ this - Elves have no currency. Not Wood-Elves, at least. Gimli does not know about the High Elves, with their fancy raiment and crafts and ithildin and rings and Mahal knows what. In any case, when they arrive in Minas Tirith after a few days' feast in Ithilien, there is one thing he quickly realises.

Legolas, prince though he be, does not own a single coin.

The revelation of this fact is, understandably, shocking, and frankly a little embarrassing. Their shared lodgings are at a high level of the city, but for sake of exploration they have gone further down, and ended up in a pleasant tavern, now lit in golden by the setting sun from the West through many windows.

Ale! Oh, he is a stout Dwarrow, and can go long without a drink, but missed it he has. The bar is a little too high for him to see across, but Legolas handles the ordering of two great tankards of the stuff - after kindly offering to lift him so that he may see. Gimli waves him off. No boxes in sight.

And then the sodding creature, rather than lift a purse (oh, he should've _seen!_ he does not carry one), brings forth from his pockets a hairpin, the kind the Elf uses to gather back all his hair when bathing. No coins. No metal. Just a hairpin, shaped in silver and jade like a leaf unfurling. And somehow, he expects this to be the payment, for he leaves the damn thing in the stammering barkeep's hand with a polite "thank you very much" and makes off with their ale without further ado.

Thrice-damned _fool_.

After apologising thoroughly on his Elven companion's behalf, and leaving some coins on the counter for good measure, Gimli trudges through the din of the tavern in puzzlement. When he finds the Elf, he's sat on a bench as if nothing is amiss. How strange. How curious. How _utterly_ ridiculous.

"What do you think you're doing, you oddity?"

Legolas evidently thinks this a good jest, because he laughs, shoving the tankard across the table towards Gimli, raising his own in a toast. 

"Having a drink, master Dwarf! What did you think? That I were going to only look at it?"

"Your wit is endless, my friend, but your brains are not! Wherever have you put your coins? I thought the barkeep might keel over for his surprise."

At this, the Elf simply stares in that open-eyed, eyebrows-raised way Gimli has come to know as bewilderment.

"Your coins. Your _coins_. Wherever have you put them? Or is the prince of the Great Wood so forgetful he brings no treasure to pay for his ale?"

More... Bewilderment. Great Mahal. He is getting nowhere with this. Gimli digs about for his own purse, and empties it out on the table. He lifts a coin, a simple copper one of five sides, imprinted with a date and the sign of Erebor. Another he shows to the Elf, an iron piece with an intricate pattern around the edge. A square golden coin with a hole, the kind they use in the Iron Hills. None of it seem to make much of an impression on his companion.

"...You carry metal bits. Pardon me, master Dwarf, but I begin to think your kind entirely strange."

The nerve!

"These are coins. Surely you have seen the Men use things like these? The coin of Gondor is round and wrought of silver, quite pretty. I expect they shall be minting ones with the new King within the month."

And now that Elf frown is increasingly growing deeper.

"Well, I have seen them- The Men here carry them in little bags. They are very impractical."

"Impr- You daft Elf! They are very practical! You exchange them for goods, or services- Why, they are widely used!"

"We do not. My kin have no use for... Coins. We trade with what we have, whether that be trinkets or food or knowledge. I have oft traded game for service, even if I am a prince. My bow I traded to me for the leathers I made from a buck. Why should I give the bowmaker metal? He has no use of it."

Gimli feels the urge to drink, and thanks Mahal for the tankard he had nearly forgotten about suddenly making itself apparent right before his nose. Drinking deeply, he ponders this. How did he not know? All this time he assumed Legolas' odd habit of collecting trinkets had been simply a fancy of his, not some grand Elven scheme to buy things! No wonder the Elf filled his pockets with acorns and herbs and other things. 

"I see. Do... All Elves do this? Trading with goods rather than coin?"

Legolas makes an odd gesture with his tankard.

"I know not much of Elves outside my own realm. I had not been to Imladris before this first time when we met - And they have none to trade with. The Galadhrim are my kin, yes, but distant. I do not know. Maybe some do, or have adopted the custom from Men. Certainly they do not use Dwarven coin," he laughs, but there is a sadness in his eyes that Gimli does not miss. His heart sinks.

They will be facing many hardships, the two of them. 

"I would not know. My kin in the mountains have not dealt with Elves in many years."

They both fall silent. Gimli drinks his ale, and mulls his thoughts over, gazing at the setting sun through a window. There are so many things he does not understand. So many things he does not know. And yet the Elf has not given up on him! It is a wonder indeed. He sighs, eventually. Only one thing for it.

"Such a shame about your hair-pin. I shall have to make you a new one."

**Author's Note:**

> go have a look at AceofShadows' part of this dual writing prompt! Definitely Not A Local is brilliantly witty and very sweet, I highly recommend reading it <3


End file.
